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Faith

We have but faith; we cannot know;
For knowledge is of things we see.
—Tennyson

Still—as the Preacher said of old,
Can we God's mighty works unfold?
Can we His meaning show?
The way the wind, the spirit blows,
The way a babe, a flower grows,
"E'en so, thou dost not know."

And if the earth on which we move
Holds wonders that we cannot prove,
Then what of Heaven and hell?
Can we by searching find out God?
When mystery lies in every clod,
Can we His secrets tell?

We have but faith; nor need we know,
While still in Heaven we see His bow,
The promise of His care.
Enough to know that God is Love,
To see Him near, beneath, above,
And trust Him everywhere.

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